Love and Other Lies
by Mnemosyne's Elegy
Summary: Yato knows better than to trust Father, but somewhere deep down inside him there is still a broken, twisted child desperate to earn his father's love. It should be easy to say no when Father comes to him with his newest scheme, but the temptation is real and it's scary how much he wants to buy into the lies. And in the end, he'll betray everyone one way or another.
1. Part 1

**Note: I don't know, I felt like indulging in some of the pure, unadulterated angst that was my bread and butter before I started dabbling more in fluffy hurt/comfort lol Go figure, it's in two parts, but this time I actually split it up early on during writing instead of at the last minute XD**

 **Also, on a random note, I've recently started moving my stories over to AO3 in light of some of the recent issues FFN has been having. I don't really expect the site to go down and I don't particularly like AO3's layout, but I figured it was better safe than sorry. It's already going to take forever to move it all over now. It's just for archiving purposes, so I'm still going to be mostly active here and everything will get posted here first. But if you read on AO3 too and see all my old crap popping up, I apologize X)**

* * *

 **Part 1**

* * *

Yato is wandering the streets in the chilly winter night when his father finds him. Sleep has always been a fickle companion, and something less than a friend more often than not. Stress always turns him into a terrible insomniac.

Warring with the heavens, nearly losing Yukine to the box, worrying about what Father is planning and what might happen to Yukine and Hiyori, and being tasked with dispatching Father before the heavens get involved, along with a handful of less pressing concerns, have put dark shadows beneath Yato's eyes and turned sleep into an elusive enemy. He tries not to wander too much because Yukine won't be happy if he wakes and finds him missing, but tonight Yato has little use for nightmares and even less for staring up at the ceiling until daybreak.

The room had begun feeling stifling, the walls closing in on their restless tenant and suffocating him in dark and silence, but Yato regrets his bid for fresh air now.

" _Yaboku_ ," the shadows whisper.

He closes his eyes and keeps walking, even though he knows it won't do any good. He could teleport, he supposes, but Father always finds him when he decides it's time for a family reunion. And some traitorous little part of his heart wriggles in expectation. The last lingering piece of the child he was still responds to its name.

"You aren't really going to ignore me, are you?" Father asks, his amusement thick over the pretend hurt.

"What do you want?" Yato asks, burying his hands in his pockets and letting his shoulders slump.

He is worn out from weeks of constant stress and centuries of manipulation, and he doesn't have the energy for a fight right now. His boots drag along the street as he drifts aimlessly onward, invisible as a ghost to all but the man who falls into step beside him. Father's new face is smug and cast in pale light and shadow from the light of the full moon, and Yato turns his gaze to the ground when something inside him twists into knots.

"Can't I just want to stop by and say hello to my precious child?"

Exhaustion drags at Yato's limbs, and he wants to curl up right there in the middle of the street and sleep this all away, nightmares be damned. "What do you want?" he repeats without any heat.

"Fine, fine. I see you aren't in the mood for chitchat. I want you to fetch Bishamon for me. She's been holed up in Takamagahara since the heavens pardoned her, surrounded by shinki, and I'd rather not have to go all the way there to have a chat. You two have gotten all buddy-buddy. Find a pretense to get her down here with as few shinki as possible, preferably without the hafuri."

Somehow Yato isn't surprised. He knows Father wants Bishamon dead for attacking him, and even more so because she knows too much and has seen his face. A better question would be why he's asking Yato to do it for him, knowing how uncooperative he's been lately, but maybe that's exactly why. Time to drag the errant god back to the fold, by whatever means necessary. And he undoubtedly suspects that Yato has said too much to Amaterasu and might be planning to kill him himself. He'll want to put a stop to it before it goes too far.

Yato is far from stupid, whatever everyone else thinks, and he has a good idea of what Father is angling for now. He's just too tired to care all that much. He's tired of fighting and running and dying one little piece at a time.

He wonders if that's why Father has chosen now to bring it up, waiting until he finds Yato prowling the night because he knows the god is already weak and vulnerable and too worn down to keep fighting.

It's Yato's job to stay strong for Yukine and Hiyori, who are still really just children and shouldn't be facing the danger he's put them in at all, and he's always been the one who stands strong when things get hard and holds them all together when they start falling apart. But he doesn't want to be strong right now, and he wishes there was someone besides Father to catch him when he falls.

"I already fought to keep her alive," is all he says. "I don't want her dead. Why do you think I'd bring her out for you to kill?"

Father doesn't deny his intentions. "Family over drinking buddies. She hunted you for centuries and still isn't exactly a ray of sunshine. But you've always had me, haven't you? Mizuchi misses you. Time to come home."

"Maybe I don't want to go home."

Father laughs, loud and bright in the stillness of the night. "Of course you do," he says with the heavy finality of _knowing_ , and Yato hates that he's seen down to that little piece of Yaboku still trapped somewhere deep down inside him. "Anyway, who else is going to help me? You did a brilliant job taking care of Ebisu for me!"

Yato hates the way his heart lifts and flutters at the praise. He positively basks in even such a little thing—a thing he isn't even proud of.

The child inside him will always want his father to be proud of him, and he hates himself for it.

The guilt quells that sick flutter of hope as quickly as it comes, because he is still horrified but what happened to Ebisu and the part he played in it.

"I didn't want him dead either," he says harshly. "I don't–"

"You're such a good child," Father says, sickly sweet. He smiles, and his eyes seem to glow in the moonlight. "Your rebellious phase has gone on for a bit too long this time, but I can forgive that. Do me a favor and you can come home and we'll forget this ever happened. You can even bring your kid with you. We'll be one big happy family again."

For one brief, traitorous moment Yato lets himself imagine it, going home with his father and his sister and his kid. He imagines them eating dinner around the table and sharing stories and laughter, going out on adventures, whispering _"I love you's"_ in the dark.

He knows it's a lie. That was never the kind of family he had, not even in the better times.

"I don't want Yukine anywhere near our family."

"You've changed as you've grown up." Father gives him a sidelong, considering look, eyes glittering faintly in the dark. Yato looks back at the ground and slips around the corner and wishes he was in his bed. "Maybe I was too hard on you when you started rebelling. I know things went a little too far and you aren't happy with it anymore. But once we neutralize the threat of Bishamon and the heavens, we'll be free to build our own life again. We can change things to be better. I'm willing to work with you and do things your way this time. Once you do this for me, nothing will stand in the way, and you can bring your Yukine home with you and we'll make some improvements and be happy together."

 _It's a lie. He's never going to change. He's just manipulating you again._

Yato looks over despite the voices clamoring in his head, hoping his eyes don't show how fragile he feels. Father smiles a little, one corner of his mouth lifting upwards like he knows he's won.

"Father…" Yato's voice is weak, uncertain. Wavering.

It's scary how much he wants to buy into this lie.

"Good boy, Yaboku," Father says with that smile.

"I hate you," Yato whispers in a thin voice.

Father's smile widens. "You love me," he says with confidence.

Yato doesn't know how it's possible to both hate and love the same person so much, to the point where the snarled knot of emotion is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode in his chest. The pain and pleasure, grief and hope, disgust and longing, hate and love are too much for one body to contain, especially one as small as Yato's, and it's tearing him apart from the inside out. Why can't he just let go?

"Won't you help me?" Father asks.

One word escapes Yato's lips in a breathy exhale: "Yes."

It's sick, the way Father's delighted grin makes his heart lift. It's so wrong that he is so desperate for the love of a man he hates so much, a man who has spent centuries dreaming up new ways to torture him and has forced him to do unspeakable things. But this is his father, the only father he has, and he wants… He wants…

"Wonderful," Father says. He reaches out, warm fingers cupping Yato's cheek, and they draw to a stop in the middle of the street. Yato leans into the touch automatically, even when his brain is screaming for him to run and never look back. He's so exhausted and broken and lonely, and he wants his father to _care_. To pull him into a hug and say it's going to be okay, even if it's all a lie. "You don't look well. Stressed out, huh? Get some sleep, kiddo. Things will be better, you'll see."

Yato wants to cry when Father pulls his hand away. For a second, it felt…

 _He doesn't love you. Never has and never will. Don't keep trying to win affection from someone who's never going to love you back._

 _How pathetic._

"Well, I'll see you and Bishamon soon!" Father says brightly. "Do try to hurry. The sooner we take care of it, the better."

And then he's gone, disappearing into the night as abruptly as he had come. Yato stands there, alone, in the middle of the street and stares out at the shadows lurking between the darkened houses.

He feels small and alone, sick to his stomach and broken. It feels like he has just made a deal with the devil. What has he done?

The night has grown teeth, and he returns to his prison even though it's still much too small and suffocating. He's even more restless than before and knows he won't sleep even if he tries, so he slides the window open. A gust of frigid wind sweeps in to tangle in his hair and trail a frozen touch along his skin, and the winter chill seeps into the air and settles into the dark corners of the room, slowly filling it up. He shivers just a little. He had barely noticed the chill outside, too absorbed in his own thoughts and Father's visit, but now he notices just enough to lead his feet over to the other futon, where Yukine lies asleep.

The boy twitches, brows drawing together, and Yato leans down to pull the covers back up to his chin. After half a second of consideration, he pulls the blankets from his own bed and carefully drapes them over Yukine as well, tucking the child in as best he can to shield him from the cold.

He lingers there for a long time, crouched beside the sleeping child illuminated by the glow of his lamp. He reaches out, hesitates, and softly brushes a few strands of unruly blond hair away from Yukine's face, trailing his fingers lightly across his kid's forehead and down his cheek. The shinki stirs ever so slightly, sighing in his sleep, and snuggles down into the blankets.

A faint smile ghosts over Yato's face for the briefest of seconds. He wonders if Yukine knows how much he loves him, even after such a short time together. If he knows that Yato means every gesture of affection and feels all the fierce pride he expresses. It sure would be a tragedy if Yukine was love-starved too.

Yato stands and drifts across the room again to hop up on the windowsill with one leg folded underneath him and the other bent at the knee. He wraps his arms around his bent knee before folding over to rest his cheek against it as he blinks out blankly at the darkness cloaking the streets.

He doesn't want to kill Bishamon. Crazy bitch or not, he's grown a bit fond of her. And even if he hadn't, killing lost its charm centuries ago. That's something he only does for Father now, whether it's because he has no choice or is used to following orders or is just obsessively seeking the pride and love he craves.

Yukine won't want him to kill either, and he has to consider Yukine now. Going against his guidepost's wishes isn't something he should do lightly. Yukine and Hiyori have put so much faith in him, believing he can change and supporting him along the way. He doesn't want to betray that.

Father is…not someone Yato should want anything to do with. He is cruel and manipulative and cunning. He has threatened Yato's friends and taught him the cruelest lessons and forced him to kill again and again and again. He is, quite truthfully, a horrible person.

Why should Yato want a person like that to care about him? The things he would have to do to win Father's approval would be horrific. They would be things that would chip away at his pride and love for himself, and why should he sacrifice his own sense of self-worth for someone who certainly isn't worth it?

But there's still that piece of him buried deep down in the darkest corner of his soul, the one that always keeps him coming back again and again and again. More than the fear and the threats, it's the threadbare promise of a family, of love and belonging, that lures him back like a moth to the flame every time. It has been a thousand years, and some part of him is still a broken, twisted child tugging at his father's sleeve and whispering _'love me'_.

He is absolutely, utterly pathetic.

He watches the rosy hues of dawn bathe the world outside the window and then brighten to gray morning light and hears Yukine stirring in his blankets and still hasn't decided what he should do. He's wavering. He needs to make a decision and fast.

"What are you _doing_?" Yukine asks groggily. A strangled sound escapes his lips as he says, "It's freezing in here! How are you not freezing? Close the window!"

Yato has gone numb a long time ago, blind to the faint clicking of his chattering teeth and the shivers running along his skin, but the cold has settled into his bones like a soul-deep ache. His limbs are stiff as he slowly unfolds them and slides off the ledge so that he can close the window. He stretches out the kinks in muscles tight and achy with cold and disuse and turns to Yukine with a smile he isn't feeling.

"'Morning," he says, because he can't justify calling it a good one.

The kid has the blankets pulled tight around him and huddles down into them with only half his face peeking out. He's looking quite irritated with Yato's thoughtlessness, but slowly his brows draw together and his eyes flicker with concern.

"Are you still not sleeping?" he asks, and Yato hadn't realized the kid had noticed his recent insomnia. "You aren't looking so good."

"Awww, are you worried about me?" Yato coos with some flicker of his normal mischief. He is supposed to be strong, he has to be strong for this child, and he can't afford to fall apart now. "That's sweet. I love you too!"

"Of course not!" Yukine turns bright red and averts his gaze and pulls the blankets up over his nose as he glares at the floor. "That's not what I said! Who would love _you_?"

Yato's smile softens to something melancholy and resigned, even though he knows it's the kid's embarrassment talking rather than his heart.

 _Yeah, who would?_

A decision crystallizes in his mind, sharp and cutting as broken glass.

"Get up, kiddo. We need to go have a chat with Bishamon."

* * *

 **Note: Child abuse is honestly one of the saddest things ever, and it's such a big problem. You can really mess people up like that :/**


	2. Part 2

**runner: Lol you aren't wrong. Kazuma would freak the hell out, and he can go awful crazy once he goes off the deep end XD I'm not convinced he'd win, but I'm sure he'd try.**

 **Aofery: Ha ha, I do still write a lot of angst, it's just that I started adding in more bits of humor and fluff and tempering it with some hurt/comfort and whatnot to balance things out. But angst is still my first love, and every once in a while I write some really self-indulgent, unadulterated angst XD**

* * *

 **Part 2**

* * *

"This had better be worth it," Bishamon says, harsh with impatience.

"It will be," Yato promises as he leads her down the path and wanders to the furthest, most solitary reaches of the park.

He doesn't know where Father is expecting them—and wouldn't expect to, since Father will be on the lookout for any sign of betrayal in light of Yato's rebellions and wary of opening himself up for a possible ambush—but they've worked together for a millennium and know each other's styles. Nora has undoubtedly been watching and giving Father updates, and they'll want the confrontation somewhere out of the way and far from Bishamon's shrines. Yato drifts around to likely places and tries not to make it seem like he's wandering aimlessly.

Bishamon's irritation tells him that he's failing, but it doesn't matter what she thinks as long as she's here. Only Karuha and Kazuha are holstered at her hips, and Yato hopes that's enough for Father. Convincing Kazuma to stay behind was a miracle in and of itself. The hafuri doesn't want to let Bishamon out of his sight when she's still injured from the fight with the heavens and clearly on the sorcerer's hit list. Yato doesn't blame him. He sort of wishes Kazuma was here anyway.

Yukine trails a step or two behind the gods, hands shoved deep in his pockets and mouth pinched into a frown. He doesn't want to be here, and he's tying Yato's chest into knots. Yato doesn't want him here either. He would rather keep his kid out of this, and he knows it's going to get messy.

"There you are!" Father says brightly, materializing from behind a small copse of trees with Nora by his side. "I knew I could count on you, Yaboku!"

Yato hates the way his face lights up for a split second at the threadbare praise.

Bishamon spits out a curse and takes a step back. " _You!_ " she says. And then she turns on Yato, who has quietly joined Father and stares across the space yawning between them. He can feel Nora glancing at him from Father's other side, sense the smile on her lips, but he keeps his eyes on Bishamon and Yukine. "You _are_ working with the sorcerer? You _bastard_."

"Yato?" Yukine asks in a small voice. He darts looks between Yato and his companions. "What…?"

Father chuckles and wraps an arm around Yato's shoulders possessively. "Oh, please. Yaboku has always been mine. You really thought a few months of attention could compare to centuries of loyalty?"

Yato's nerves tingle where Father touches. He twitches, wanting to pull away, his skin crawling with disgust. But he stays still and takes it, because he also wants more.

He averts his gaze. He doesn't have anything to say, and looking at Yukine and Bishamon is difficult. Their expressions make him feel like scum.

"I should kill you both," Bishamon snarls.

"Injured and without your hafuri?" Father asks in amusement. "I think not." His fingers tighten around Yato's shoulder. "Yaboku, kill her for me, won't you?"

Yato is not surprised by the request. The _order_. He's had the suspicion Father would demand this test of loyalty and use it as an opportunity to reassert his control and squash any lingering rebellion. It makes his stomach turn over anyway.

"Yukine doesn't want to kill," he mumbles, staring at the ground.

"You haven't been disciplining him properly," Father says. "We can fix that. You know how to do it—just train him the way I trained you. I'll even let you borrow the dogs, if you want." As if remembering the lies and promises he can't even keep straight, he adds, "And once this is all over, we can forget all that and work something else out, right?"

"Yato, no," Yukine says, horrified, and there is a sharp ache in Yato's chest that pulses to punctuate each word. "That's not you. You aren't like that anymore."

"That's exactly how he is," Father says with a laugh. He runs his fingers down Yato's cheek and tips his face back up so that their eyes meet again. He's smiling as he lets his fingers linger there. "You're such a good child," he croons. "Won't you do me a favor?"

The breath escapes Yato's lips in a soft, shaky sigh, and he leans into the touch. "Father, I…"

"Don't touch him!" Yukine says sharply, anger threading through his voice. "You let him go!"

Father only laughs. "Can't you see he likes it?"

Yato won't lie and deny it, but he can't bring himself to admit it either. He doesn't know how to explain how the same gesture makes the butterflies flop around in his stomach and his skin crawl at the same time, and probably wouldn't want to even if he could.

"Sekki."

Yukine goes quiet as he transforms into his signature blades and slides into Yato's hands, but then whispers softly into the god's head, "Are you okay?"

Yato doesn't answer.

"Good boy," Father says, eyes sparkling. "Things will be much better when you come home where you belong again, you'll see."

Making Yato kill Bishamon is another show of dominance, bringing the god to heel by prodding him back into the business of calamity and reasserting control. Yato isn't stupid, just desperate. He supposes the two things are often the same.

Bishamon whips out her shinki faster than thought and fires, sound exploding into the still air as a volley of bullets rains down. Yato sways slightly but doesn't lift his weapon. The bullets miss.

"I'm going to kill you," Bishamon says, but her eyes are fixed on Father.

"How?" Yato asks flatly. "Their aim is terrible without Kazuma guiding them, powerful or not. You can't win if you can't hit me."

This is not entirely true. He knows the twins have been working hard to improve after the near-disaster of the fight Kugaha orchestrated between Yato and Bishamon when Kazuma wasn't there to hold their hands. That's why they were chosen for this, he knows. That and because using guns and distance attacks is easier on Bishamon when she's still recovering from her injuries.

Bishamon only fires again. Over the sound of gunfire she says, "Karuha, revert. Go get Kazuma and the others. Hurry."

Yato steps towards the small girl that materializes and darts off, but Bishamon shoots again and this time the bullets are a little too close for comfort. He backs off.

Father clicks his tongue. "Well, we can't have that."

Yato deflects a bullet with the edge of his sword and spares a half-second for his gaze to slide to the side and rest on Nora. "Hiiro," he says, even though he has long since revoked that name while trying unsuccessfully to cut himself out of their twisted family. "Go stop her."

Nora hesitates, looking to Father because he is the one who commands them both in the end.

Amusement is written across his face like dark satire. "Go on," he says. "This is Yaboku's project, so let's do it his way."

 _Project_ , Yato thinks derisively, and for a short second his fire rekindles and smolders deep down in his soul before sputtering out again.

Nora nods and takes off after Karuha, who has already disappeared into the trees. Bishamon instantly tears her focus from Yato to shoot at the threat chasing after her shinki.

Yato knows Nora can defend herself with her borderlines, but he's fought enough wars over the centuries to know that half of a battle is getting into an advantageous position. He darts around in an arc to block Nora from the enraged goddess, stopping when he's almost opposite Father with Bishamon sandwiched in the middle, and calls on his lightning-quick reflexes to guide the blades to slice and deflect bullets.

"Yato," Yukine says hesitantly, his conflict a pounding ache behind Yato's eyes, "it's… It's not too late to back out."

Yato doesn't answer. There are no good options now, but he has made his choice and he will live and die by it.

He lunges at Bishamon, who keeps firing but backs up several paces as he advances. She has the advantage at a distance, but Yato presses ever closer because he fights better at close range and Sekki is suited to it. They jockey for position, and Yato pushes her steadily back towards Father.

 _Just a little farther…_

She trips over something on the ground, and her eyes widen as she falls back and slams down with a sharp sound of pain.

 _Close enough._

He can imagine Father's triumphant smile as he pounces and rushes in for the kill. His boot slams down beside Bishamon's head, and he launches himself at Father without pausing to lose his momentum. One blade slides to a stop with the edge pressed lightly against the sorcerer's throat, digging just deep enough to draw a thin line of blood, and the other hovers at the ready. Every muscle in Yato's body is coiled tight like a spring in anticipation—he will not let his guard down until he is sure it is well and truly over.

Surprise flickers in Father's eyes. It vanishes as quickly as it has come, replaced with amusement. The corners of his lips curl upwards into a lazy, slyly amused smile.

"Still a little feisty, huh? What do you think you're going to do, honestly?"

He doesn't look scared because he's not. He isn't afraid or angry or any of that, because he has never taken Yato seriously and doesn't yet realize that this is serious. Yato has always backed down before, and he hasn't realized that this time is different.

Yato says nothing. This is something Father will have to figure out for himself.

Bishamon scrambles to her feet and slips behind the sorcerer to twist his hands behind his back. Cuffs click shut around his wrists. They're just regular old human-made handcuffs, what they could find on short notice, but Father is human in the end. Without Chiki, he's far less dangerous…although far from defenseless.

If anything, his amusement only burns hotter. "Oh, this is priceless. What are you going to do now, take me to jail?"

"Be quiet," Bishamon snaps. "We're turning you over to the heavens."

"Oh? _Are_ you, now?"

Yato is still on high alert and catches the movement in his peripheral vision as the named ayakashi crawl out of the woodwork and lunge for the gods. He lashes out without missing a beat, having already accounted for the rest of Father's pets. Bishamon takes a few shots, but this is Yato's forte and he cuts through the ayakashi with minimal effort. Maybe they're strong, but Yukine is sharp where he is flat and dull. If nothing else, his skill is still sharp and he can carve through phantoms even on autopilot.

He makes short work of the beasts, and Bishamon is pulling the locution brush out of Father's pocket when he drops his arms back at his sides and turns back.

"Stealing isn't very nice," Father says with a pout.

"Yukine, revert." Yato doesn't look over as the kid materializes again. "Keep a lookout for Nora."

His kid can hold his own against Nora. He'll make sure she can't get to Father.

Yukine hesitates. "Can't we…? Can't we do it another way?"

He has been upset since hearing the gods' plan to give Father to the heavens, where he will likely be executed after questioning. The only reason he agreed to go along with this at all is because Yato revealed that he has already told Amaterasu most everything and the heavens are planning to go after the sorcerer anyway. That and he might have suggested that they could work out a deal with Amaterasu to keep Father imprisoned instead of killing him. This is a bald-faced lie and Yukine must suspect the chances of that are slim at best, but at least it's a straw to grasp at.

Unfortunately, Yato is too twisted up inside to offer the kid any more comfort than he already has. "Just hold her off."

The ache in his chest sharpens, but Yukine bites down on the inside of his cheek and retreats a few paces away to keep a lookout.

"Right," Bishamon says briskly as she examines the troublesome brush a moment longer before tucking it into her pocket. "Let's get this taken care of quickly…and I'll have to check on Karuha." She shakes her head to refocus on the problem at hand. "It's over, sorcerer. The heavens will judge your crimes and punish you accordingly."

"Don't be naïve," Father says, and he actually rolls his eyes. "Yaboku isn't going to let that happen."

"Of course he is. We already discussed it."

Yato says nothing. He hasn't said much of anything since that discussion. He doesn't know what's left to say, and he doesn't feel like saying any of it anyway.

"I should have realized you were still feeling a little rebellious," Father says with an exaggerated sigh. He winks at Yato. "But I know you better than you know yourself, kid. You aren't going to hand me over to the heavens. We're still family, isn't that right? You love me too much. Let's drop the games and take care of business and go home." Yato doesn't respond, and Father smirks a little. "You've been awfully quiet this whole time, kiddo. Don't you have anything to say?"

Yato rouses himself a little and says in a flat voice, "You've never loved me, and I've already wasted centuries trying to make you. It's a little too late for that argument. Why should that change anything now?"

"So you _did_ know." Father's smile widens a bit and his eyes sparkle. He is still supremely unconcerned by his predicament. "That makes it even more pathetic that you're still always trying, doesn't it? Even when you're betraying me, your whole face lights up when I praise you."

"He was acting," Yukine snaps from somewhere behind them. "It was an act."

"Is that what you think?" Father laughs. "Naïve boy. Oh, Yaboku, your problem is that you love too much. You just can't help but love everyone, even when you try to push them all away. They always get you in the end, but no one ever loves you back. It's only going to keep getting you hurt, you know.

"Watching you with your hafuri is kind of painful, honestly. I wonder if you smother him with so much affection because you're overcompensating for everything you lack or because you're just that desperate to make him love you. Either way, your insecurities are showing, Yaboku."

A knife twists somewhere deep in Yato's heart, and he wishes Father would just _shut up_.

"That's not fair!" Yukine protests.

Yato looks at no one but Father, and he can't tear his gaze away even when those smug, knife-sharp eyes slice him to shreds. "I told Amaterasu all about you. The heavens are planning to mount a search starting on Ooharai."

Irritation flickers across Father's face for a moment before smoothing itself away, and he clicks his tongue. "I was worried you'd done that. Ah, well. We'll figure it out once we sort out this mess."

"The only reason they're waiting so long is that I asked Amaterasu to give me time to kill you myself first."

" _What?_ " Yukine demands. Beside him, Bishamon draws in a sharp breath.

This is the first they've heard of this. But Yato only watches Father and the way the corners of his lips creep slowly higher.

"Smart kid," Father says. "It's surprisingly thoughtful of you to buy us some time."

Yato shakes his head. "You're misunderstanding. Give me one reason why we shouldn't kill you."

Some traitorous little corner of his heart is half-hoping that Father can pull a reason out of thin air, one that will set Yato's mind at ease and assure him that he doesn't have to go through with this after all. He wants a reason to call this whole thing off.

He knows that there's no reason good enough anymore and has already decided on what he's going to do, but he still half-wants Father to talk him out of it.

Father blinks at him, his eyes narrowing, but then his smile slides back into place. "The same reason as always. You'll go down with me, and you're terrified of disappearing. Your human girl won't keep you alive for long after I'm gone, and you know it. You're never going to kill me off, because you want to live."

Yato considers that for a moment, turning it over in his mind, but then shakes his head. "Not good enough anymore."

That excuse has kept him bound to Father for centuries and tied his hands, but he's tired of hiding behind it. Yukine and Hiyori and everyone else are in too much danger, and Yato…actually values their lives above his now. He doesn't want to disappear and he's sure the fear will seep back in later because he's fought _so hard_ to stay alive all this time, but for now he barely cares.

Whatever Father sees in Yato's eyes wipes the smile right off his face. For the first time, he's realizing that the god is dead serious.

"You know," he says sharply, his eyes narrowing, "it's easy to make a slave. It's much more fun to make a slave and call him family. Tug at the heartstrings, play mind games, trick him into loving you and push him further and further to see how long it will hold even against the hate and fear and hurt. And you've performed admirably, to be honest. Watching you slowly fall apart over the centuries has been rather entertaining, and it seems like you're _finally_ hitting your breaking point. Honestly, you look terrible and I doubt it's your peace of mind keeping you up wandering the streets at four o'clock in the morning.

"But you have a major flaw: you're a loose cannon, kid. You were so obedient in the beginning, so eager to please, but you started developing some pesky conscience and it's been getting in the way ever since. I've let some of your rebellions go because they amuse me, but you're going too far now. You've been becoming too erratic and dangerous lately."

Yato closes his eyes. He doesn't want to hear their whole twisted game laid out in detail, bared for the world to see. It's nothing surprising to him, nothing he hasn't known for centuries, but it's still a knife twisting slowly in his gut.

Someone says something, but he can feel himself shutting down a little at a time and right now his world is only big enough for him and Father.

"It's been fun and I have to admit you've helped me out with my schemes a lot, but…" Father shakes his head. "Honestly, I'm starting to think you were a mistake."

Something shatters deep down in Yato's chest just like that. It shouldn't matter. Being a mistake only means that he's not like Father and has changed too much to be a useful god of calamity anymore.

But it still _hurts_. It's one thing to be abused and manipulated, to be treated as a tool or toy or slave. It's another for his entire existence to be a _mistake_.

Yato wants to matter, even if only a little bit. It's sick, but… At least if Father is torturing him and playing games, there's some reason for him to exist at all. He'll take the pain and suffering and cruelty if it means that Father has even the slightest use for him and he has even a small and twisted place in the world.

Maybe that's why he has always clung so desperately to life and been so terrified of disappearing. There is nothing worse than _being_ nothing, and Yato will cling to even the mistreatment if it means someone is watching him. If that's the price he has to pay for any crumb of affection or offhanded word of praise, he'll pay it over and over and over again until he can convince himself that he matters to someone.

The child buried deep inside him still longs for Father's affection and pride, and this final, total rejection is the nail in the coffin.

It hurts.

"It's far too late for regrets," is all he says. He hopes he doesn't look as fragile and shattered as he feels. "You've made your bed, and now it's time to lie in it."

There is a cruel light shining in Father's eyes that Yato knows too well, the one that says he's going in for the kill, for maximum damage. It means that he's given up on charming Yato and is going to try to break him instead. It might be flattering if he didn't still obviously think he was going to worm his way out of this predicament somehow.

He knows exactly what he's doing and exactly what he can say to hit home, and he knows _exactly_ what he has just done to Yato. Because, like he's said, sometimes he knows Yato better than the god knows himself. How else could he manipulate him for so long and keep him coming back again and again and again despite everything?

Father leans forward a little and his eyes bore into Yato like cold, sharp steel. "Do you know why no one ever loves you back?"

Yato isn't sure he wants to play this game, but he's been doing it for centuries and why stop now? He steps in close, his breath fluttering in the tiny gap between them as he breathes one word: "Why?"

"Because when I made you, I made you unlovable."

This barely registers. There comes a point, eventually, where too much has been said and heaping insult upon injury no longer seems to matter. You can't break what's already broken, or that's what Yato would like to think.

"You don't know anything about love," he says flatly.

And maybe that's the answer he's been searching for all this time. Then again, maybe Father is right and has been right all along.

Father only laughs. "But you do. And you don't really want me dead."

"You're misunderstanding." Yato tilts his head, detached but mildly curious about how Father has misjudged this so badly when usually he knows exactly how to manipulate his pet god. It's not even that Father is wrong, exactly, just that he's missing the point. Yato slips his hand into his pocket and runs his fingers down the length of cool metal before wrapping them around wood. "Yukine doesn't want to kill you, but I do. The difference between you and me is that I won't turn my kid into a killer if that's not what he wants to be."

He whips the knife out of his pocket and slides it across Father's throat in one smooth motion, no hesitation. Father's eyes bulge in disbelief and pain, his lips part into a small 'o', and his throat cries crimson tears. A spray of scarlet droplets mists the air, wet and warm against Yato's skin.

"I guess you really are just a human in the end," Yato muses, running his thumb along the bloodied blade. The edge catches his skin with a throbbing jolt, and he drags his thumb down to the very point until he can't tell where Father's blood ends and his begins. Such a small human tool would never kill a god, but Father was only human even if he'd tried to put himself above the gods. Still, it's surreal to see him laid low by such a simple thing when he has always loomed above Yato like an invincible giant. "And you taught me how to kill humans."

 _Isn't that what you wanted? Are you proud of me yet, or is this just another mistake?_

What had Father really expected? He had created a tool for killing, and eventually it was going to turn on him too. It's all Yato is good for. He won't force Yukine to become the same thing, but there comes a point when he has to ignore his guidepost's wishes and rip the problem out by the roots. He'll do it himself. He has to be strong enough to do it himself so that he doesn't put that burden on his kid.

He has done a lot of soul-searching to come to this decision and it's been building for centuries, but he feels no triumph or relief or sense of freedom as Father collapses to the ground and his eyes go glassy. He lets the knife slip from between his nerveless fingers to splash in the growing pool of blood soaking into the thirsty ground and feels anything but.

He feels sick to his stomach, and there's a maelstrom of grief and pain and self-loathing swirling around inside him, waiting to break free. He is nothing but broken, broken, broken.

He has killed yet again, even though he is trying to leave that life behind, and that always makes him feel like less than trash. He has killed _Father_ , whom he despises but also still loves in some strange way because this is the only family he's known. He has betrayed everyone. He lied to Father and Nora about helping them kill Bishamon, he lied to Bishamon about turning Father over to the heavens, and he lied to Yukine about looking for a way around killing Father. But if all that has come out of his mouth recently are lies, he supposes that he learned from the best.

"What have you done?" Bishamon breathes. Kazuma is standing beside her now, wide-eyed. Yato hadn't even noticed him, even knowing that the hafuri had insisted on staying nearby in case something went wrong.

"Father!" Nora cries. Yato wonders how long she's been here, how long Yukine has been holding her off with borderlines and why she's running free now. She tears past him and falls to her knees in the gory dirt beside the body. For once, her eyes reflect fear and pain and something like desperation as she looks back at Yato. "Yato, _why_? He's your lifeline!"

It hits him that she actually doesn't want him to disappear. Maybe she does care, in her own way. Once upon a time, that would have made him happy.

"You _idiot_!" Yukine says. His eyes are wild and desperate as he rushes over and shoves Yato hard. They are also shimmering with moisture. "You said– Why would you–you–?"

Yato blinks at him for a long moment before remembering that Yukine is still his kid and he still has a responsibility to him. Their world has just been turned on its head, and Yato loves the kid too much not to offer him something, even if he feels completely and utterly shattered. He needs to be strong just a little bit longer, even while he cuts his hands open on the sharp edges of all his broken pieces that he's desperately trying to hold together.

So he says the words he would have killed to hear from his own father: "You did a good job. I'm proud of you."

Yukine's whole face crumples, and the tears spill free down his cheeks. He throws his arms around Yato and buries his face in his chest, even though the god is dyed crimson with the blood he finds so horrific.

"I lied earlier," Yukine whispers so quietly Yato has to strain to hear. "I do love you."

Once upon a time, those words would have brought Yato to his knees. They would have made him happy enough to burst, and maybe he would have felt like he had finally found something he had been missing all along.

Now he only smiles through a mouthful of broken glass, because, honestly, what is there to love?

* * *

(He makes it nine steps away from Father's body before his legs give out and he collapses in a boneless heap on the ground. He curls into a ball right there in the dirt and sobs and sobs and sobs until he can't breathe and his entire body is shaking like a leaf in a windstorm.

He can't even say why he's crying. Because he killed Father, because there's still a tangled knot of love and hate strangling his heart, because he's never been good enough and never will be, because he has killed so many people and that seems to be all he's good for, because he has suffered in silence for centuries, because he is an unlovable mistake. Maybe he is crying for every single thing he has endured and felt and lived for the past millennium. He stopped crying centuries ago, and now every tear he never shed is forcing its way out and carving down his cheeks like knives.

It hurts, everything hurts.

He doesn't even care who sees him or what they think. He is so tired of pretending to be something he's not, and he is not strong and maybe never has been. For once, he can't bring himself to care if the world sees through his act.

He doesn't care when Bishamon kneels down beside him and lifts him partway up and strokes his hair as he sobs into her chest. He doesn't care when Yukine presses close and babbles incoherently and throws his arms around him. He barely even feels them at all. They feel so far away, while he's trapped here all alone in the dark with centuries of Father's words ringing in his ears.

He cries until he's wrung out every last tear, and it takes an eternity. He has a thousand years' worth of tears to cry, after all. And then he just slumps there, numb and hollow and empty, like the tears washed everything away and there's nothing left inside him. Like he's just an empty shell, and maybe has been for a long, long time.

Bishamon has long since abandoned words, but Yukine is still mumbling the same few sentiments over and over again, muffled in Yato's jersey and thick with tears.

"I'm sorry," the kid repeats like a mantra, his voice hitching. "It's going to be okay. I love you."

Usually Yukine is so warm, a little furnace of happiness and sunshine, but now he feels distant despite the small hands clutching at the god. Yato only feels cold and empty and shattered into a million tiny pieces too small and jagged to be put back together.

It seems to him that love is just another lie.

For the first time, he thinks that maybe disappearing wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.)

* * *

 **Note: Poor Yato, you do not deserve this. But in all honestly, child abuse really messes people up and to have that abuse continue for centuries would leave some serious, lasting trauma. The fact that his dad framed this whole thing as a family affair makes it like a hundred times worse, and it's honestly a crime to take advantage of a kid's natural eagerness to please like that. Anyway, I feel like Yato's relationship with his father could be extra complicated and contradictory because of how that kind of manipulation and emotional abuse works (you know, you frame it like a family and play games to give them just enough affection to keep them coming back and taking the abuse while you undermine their self-worth and cut out any outside support, etc.).**

 **Yato's dad isn't only his parent (self-styled or not), but literally wished him into existence and is the one maintaining his existence. He is, almost literally, _everything_ to Yato, and has been for most of his life. Yato's entire sense of self-worth and meaning is built on how his father sees him and how good of a tool he is, basically. It's not only that he still has a masochistic need to be loved by his father, but that the meaning of his entire existence rests on it. Which is why it would be so devastating to be rejected and called basically a mistake.**  
 **Thankfully Yato seems to be learning how to start basing some of his self-worth on other things and finding new meaning as he tries to break away from his past (Yukine, Hiyori, and co. help a lot to give him new sources of validation and more healthy relationships), but it would take a long time to heal that much trauma.**

 **Also, I usually have to cook up super complicated plots to get rid of Yato's father, so for once I wanted to do something almost stupid in its simplicity and have Yato realize the guy isn't as invincible as he seems. Obviously he's not really a normal human, but canon hasn't really clarified all his abilities yet, so I just took the "he's still human regardless of the rest of it" approach here.**

 **And I wasn't sure if I was going to tack that ending bit on there at first, but I'm glad I did X)**


End file.
